


don't bring a laser to a gun fight

by ReptileRuler



Series: PRaZ FebuWhump [16]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Alien anatomy, Alternate Universe - Future, Blood and Gore, Cuddling & Snuggling, Multi, Other, Red would take a bullet or four for his buds don't worry about it, Surgery, Things Being Zim's Fault, bullet wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:48:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29514135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReptileRuler/pseuds/ReptileRuler
Summary: Zim seemed to have concluded that no one was coming, because his PAK legs were withdrawn and he was standing in front of them. There were still lasers in his hands and an agitated twitchyness in his posture, though. He snarled up at Purple.“Help him already!” he snapped, “get your med-kit and get those disgusting THINGS out of him!”Febuwhump 2021Chapter 1: DAY 17: field surgeryChapter 2: DAY 26: recovery
Relationships: The Almighty Tallest & Zim, The Almighty Tallest/Zim
Series: PRaZ FebuWhump [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137614
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21
Collections: febuwhump 2021





	1. Chapter 1

Only on run-down slum planets did you encounter aliens with guns that shot _actual bullets_. Only the most barbaric, primitive life forms would think it fun to shoot a piece of metal into their opponents, when lasers were cleaner, deadlier and more cost effective in the long run. 

And only an _absolute fool like Zim_ would think to get into a gunfight with said barbaric aliens.

“Red? _Red?”_

It was just everyone’s luck that Red was also a fool, ready to jump into enemy fire to protect his comrades. 

“Red, can you hear me?”

Purple leaned over his fallen partner, breath catching in his airtubes. Red was awake, but incoherent. His eyes unseeing, his mouth moving without saying anything. Hot pink blood gushed between his fingers where they pressed against the multiple holes in his abdomen. 

A bits away, Zim stood with his back turned to them, lasers in his hands, more lasers on the ends of his PAK legs, antennae back and knees bent. All feral energy as he scouted for any signs of the attackers returning or finding their hiding spot. 

Purple turned back to Red, and to the wound. There were still bullets in him. They had to get those out before the PAK healed the injury and sealed them in there, where they would cause pain and infection and ultimately death-

_“Purple!”_

His head snapped up. Zim seemed to have concluded that no one was coming, because his PAK legs were withdrawn and he was standing in front of them. There were still lasers in his hands and an agitated twitchyness in his posture, though. He snarled up at Purple.

“Help him already!” he snapped, “get your med-kit and get those disgusting THINGS out of him!”

Purple jumped. Alongside the anxiety, a familiar sense of guilt and self-depreciation began to set in. Stupid, he was so stupid. He could never jump into action like the other two did. Something unexpected happened, and Purple was as useless as a newly-hatched smeet before its personality got downloaded.

Okay, okay. Red needed him. This was no time to be stupid. He opened his PAK and pulled out the medical kit. One step at a time, _you can do this, Purple_. He patted Red’s cheek, but received nothing but the smallest twitch of muscle in response. With any luck the PAK was at least administering pain relievers. Purple didn’t have a way to tell. 

They’d need Red to be on his back. A specially-made surgical table would have been great, but they had to work with what they had. 

“Z-Zim, hold his head up for me,” Purple mumbled as he started rolling Red onto his back, trying to ignore how Red gasped and whined at being handled.

There was a moment of hesitation before Zim’ lasers clattered to the ground and he sank onto his knees, pulling Red’s head onto his lap. Purple slipped out of his gown, revealing the black underclothes. It was a nice gown, kinda expensive, but he just rolled it up and pillowed it between the ground and Red’s lower back. A minor comfort to having your spine bent weird because you were on your back on the floor because you were an idiot who _jumped into enemy fire-_

He’d have to hurry. Do it fast, and then get Red somewhere safe.

He reached for the med-kit and opened the bag. First thing first, he needed to sacrifice Red’s clothes just to get to the wound. He grabbed a pair of scissors.

It wasn’t that Purple was particularly good at medical stuff. He froze up in stressful situations, his hands trembled sometimes and he hadn’t even had more than the same basic medical training they all had. It just so happened that Zim and Red were better fighters. Better mechanics. Better Irkens, really. So he’d taken up the role as their personal medical drone when it was needed.

Now he wished he’d had at least _some more_ training. The sight and scent of all the blood almost made him nauseous as he cut up the fabric and reached for a scalpel, tweezers and disinfectant.

Meanwhile, Zim’s thumbs grazed over Red’s temples. He held the taller Irken’s head gently and mumbled soothing words to him when Purple cut into his skin and Red’s face twitched in agitation. 

There were certain disadvantages to being Irken, although no sane Irken would _speak_ about it out loud. Sensitivities to foreign substances made the universe a deadly trap if one wasn’t careful. A non-Irken metal bullet could spread all sorts of bad stuff into your bloodstream, and you’d suffer a slow, painful death. Visions of his partner deteriorating from blood poisoning kept going through Purple’s mind as he sliced up Red’s skin, his thin exoskeleton, and peeled it all open until he could see the muscles, spooch-tissue, and most importantly, the glint of metal.

Purple thoroughly disinfected the tweezers and took a steadying breath. The bullets hadn’t grazed any internal organs, which was good, even though the PAK shouldn’t have had any trouble with fixing up organ damage. All he needed to do was to get the foreign matters out of Red’s body.

He tried to be as unobtrusive as possible as he slid the tool into the flesh and took hold of one of the bullets. It came out easily enough, the flesh giving off a sick ‘shlurp’ noise as he pulled.

Red keened and trashed his head weakly. Purple looked over, and watched as Zim bent forward until he was almost folded over Red’s face, hushing and chirping and mumbling. A soothing scent waved through the air, and Purple realized that it came from _Zim._

Once they were in a less stressful situation, Purple would take the time to reflect on the implication of a shorter Irken acting the way tallers would instinctively act when someone needed comfort.

For now, he took a steadying breath and returned to his current project.

There were four bullets in total. Purple pulled them out, one by one, and placed them to the side. He disinfected Red’s insides while mumbling apologies at how much it must sting, and placed the exoskeleton and skin back in place. The PAK would know to heal the open wound, so he simply held it together and reached for the gauze. 

The wound was patched up and Purple leaned back, feeling like he’d been awake for months without rest. But he’d done it! He’d saved Red’s life, and not screwed up even once! The relief washed over him with the same intensity as when he drank his favorite soda flavor after a stressful day.

He looked back as Zim, still cradling Red’s face with such uncharacteristic gentleness. Red seemed to be asleep finally. That was good! Regenerative sleep would speed up the healing process, and Red wouldn’t be in pain. Zim met his gaze. They shared a shaky smile, apparently both exhausted by the situation. 

This was still Zim’s fault. But Purple could yell at him about it later. 

Purple was the first one to stand up, legs feeling like jelly. It was as though all the adrenaline had drained out of him and left him with no energy reserves left. Too bad they still needed to get back to Zim’s VOOT.

It dawned on him that he would be the one who had to carry their unconscious partner. He really didn’t have the energy, but he also couldn’t feel any irritation over the euphoric relief. 

Oh, well. One final exertion for the day, and then he would curl up and nap by Red’s side as he recovered. 

He nodded to himself and bent down, freeing Zim from the trap that was Red’s head. Zim stood and shook the numbness out of his legs before grabbing all the stuff they’d spread out around themselves. Guns, robes, and medical supplies. It all went into Zim’s PAK to be dealt with later. That was fine. 

With one partner cradled in his arms, and the other already bragging about how well he’d handled the enemy aliens (which was false!) Purple made his way back to their ship.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's fluff hours bois.

Red woke up in his nest. He knew before he opened his eyes, familiar scents washing over him, the slight pressure and heat of two other life forms pressed up against him. The sheets were soft and comfortable against his sore body. Zim was curled up against his torso, and Purple’s arm was slung over them both from behind him. 

Aside from the familiar comfort, actual pain made itself known. A hot, pulsating ache started his stomach area and spread through his body like the viscous lava on planet Toohottohandle. Sliding his fingers over his belly revealed nothing but medical gauze.

He was naked. Remarkable, since he never really took off his jumpsuit even when he went to bed. 

Red remembered that he’d been shot. Maybe more than once? Irk, actual bullets were way worse than the clean old laser wounds he’d suffered in the past! The second the first one entered his body, it was as though his PAK could no longer filter out pain the way it should, and he’d succumbed to a world of agony minutes, or maybe seconds later. Everything after that had been just a blur. 

But they were back on the Massive now. So… things must have turned out ok. 

He cracked open one eye, finding their room to be dimly lit, save for one of those nice-smelling candle things that Zim had gotten from earth. Its light flickered as it burned, the scent (Lavender? Yes, a lavender candle) wafting through the recycled air and giving it a comforting tone, like an extra blanket. Except in the air.

Red looked down. Zim was there, face mushed against Red’s chest. 

Ah, yes. This guy. The asshole he’d risked his life for.

Reaching up, Red ran a finger over Zim’s antenna. The one that was always twitching when he was awake. It had caused a barely noticeable unevenness to Zim’s skull, where the muscles on his right side had grown to accommodate the hard-working appendage. Not really visible, but one could feel it, if you got close enough to touch him.

Zim twitched and looked up, their eyes meeting for a second. Wide magenta against tired ruby ones.

“You … pile of excrement”, Red said.

“You’re awake!” Zim gasped, and suddenly he was all alert and moving. Tiny hands grasped at Red’s cheek, and he grunted as he felt Zim’s forehead bonk against his with way too much force. “You lived! I knew you would, clearly, but now you’re awake! Finally, we’ve waited so long, Red! Never,  _ ever  _ stay unconscious for this long again! I-”

“Red?”

The body behind him shifted, and then another hand on his cheek had him turning his neck around. Purple gazed quietly at him, something soft and vulnerable swirling in his eyes. Zim’s voice faded into the background. 

“Hi”, Red said, and was rewarded with a much gentler head bump. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay”, he whispered. Red chuckled softly, pulling Purple into an embrace, which Zim promptly wiggled himself into. That little roach. Not that Red minded - he was happy to  _ be  _ okay as well, and to be here with his two… whatever they were. Fellow exiles. Comrades. Partners. It didn’t matter.

They were here. Safe.

“Haha. Yeah. Ouch”, he winced when Zim’s foot pressed against his stomach for a second, “remind me to never, ever, do that again.”

“I will”, Purple promised.

“It still hurts?” Zim curiously pressed a palm against the gauze. Son of a-

“ _ Irk,  _ yes! Why would you do that?!”

“Maybe Pur did a bad job fixing you?”

“Hey!” Purple snapped and lifted Zim by the PAK, shucking him to the other side of the bed. “I did great!”

Zim sputtered about for a second, glaring at Purple, but it was all a show - Red could tell that Zim was happy. Whatever it meant that Red could  _ tell  _ which parts or Zim were a facade and which ones weren’t, was something he’d have a crisis about one of these days. Just not right now. 

“Do you need anything?” Purple asked as his knuckles ran along Red’s cheekbone. Meanwhile, Zim had already crawled all the way back to them, to sit really close and with his hands and antennae roaming over Red’s face, shoulders, head. 

He hummed as he leaned into Pur’s hand, and reached up to pat Zim’s cheek. It would be easy to just go back to sleep for a bit longer, let himself heal and stuff. But as he opened an eye that had mysteriously fallen closed, he saw that eager glint in Pur’s eyes. And was that the same eagerness reflected in Zim?

“I could use something to drink, I guess”, he said slyly. 

Both of them scrambled up, announcing their intentions to get him something. Unfortunately that left him without anyone to share body heat. Oh well, it was still entertaining to watch them go. 

Throwing a blanket over himself and settling down, he felt quite content. Quite loved.

He didn’t regret a single thing.

**Author's Note:**

> According to Quora you don't actually remove bullets unless they're causing actual harm. But they're aliens so this is different!!!!
> 
> Chapter 2 will be for day 26: Recovery :>


End file.
